Ten Songs Meme
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK/US, negligible US/Japan- Ten songs, ten stories. Multi-parted.
1. Chapter 1

**Untitled (Ten Songs Meme)**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**A/N: I did that meme where you write ten quick fics to ten random songs. This is actually what "Superstar" originated from.**

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**1. Boo Bop Bopbop Bop (I Love You, Too) - Pete's Dragon**

"I mean, after all, you've been there for me all this time! You've done so much for me that it's only right that I repay the favor, isn't it?"

"That…that was all for my sake! If you screw up it ruins the rest of us, you know!"

"Ha ha ha, whatever you say, England."

"…But if you really want to, I won't stop you."

"England?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too."

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**2. Superstar - The Carpenters**

"Keep listening, all right? Someday it will be me on there!" Alfred cranked up his radio to a volume that would likely bring his house down around him, as it blasted some new dreadful Top 40 song. He played an air guitar as he bounced around on his bed and crooned along.

"You can barely play the guitar and you think you'll be a superstar?" Arthur scowled from his seat on Alfred's floor, not impressed by the American's mock performance. The insult was enough to stop the show and coax Alfred into flopping down next to Arthur, where he proceeded to curl himself around the Briton and press kisses to his hair.

"You like it when I play though, don't you? Hey, someday I'll write a song just for you and when it comes on, you can say, 'that one's just for me!'" His lips moved down to Arthur's, begging affection from the stiff boy in his arms.

"I tolerate it, yes." He gave in, however, and pressed back with more fervor. At length he pulled away and gave the American a pleading look as he caught his breath. "You're really leaving then?"

"Of course I am! There's too much waiting for me out there, and not even you can keep me here…"

It was a moment he'd never forgotten, especially not as that beloved voice blared from the radio as promised.

But with songs about various girls and his exploits in the big city, rather than small town memories and bushy browed lovers.

"…But when I make it big, I'll come back for you. So you better stay my biggest fan."

Arthur had kept his promise, he kept hoping Alfred would keep his.

* * *

**3. Gee, Officer Krupke! - West Side Story**

"Gee, Officer Kirkland! It's not like I _want_ to do illegal things and get arrested! Honest! It's just on account of my upbringing, ya know?" With that dazzling smile and those wide, wide blue eyes, most anyone would believe this boy was innocent as the day he was born.

But Arthur Kirkland was too smart to fall for that act. Actually, if he didn't know better, he'd almost swear that Alfred got in trouble just so _he _would be the one to come arrest him. He hadn't heard of any other officers bringing him in…

"Your upbringing? You'd even blame this on your poor mother and father?"

"Yeah, I mean, they always had marijuana, but they wouldn't share! Isn't that tragic? Dear old dad wouldn't share any of his booze, either. I had to sneak it when he wasn't looking. You understand, don't you, Officer Kirkland? Deep down I'm just a troubled youth _begging_ for the love I never got!"

Alfred was down right smirking now, and Arthur pursed his lips. Smarmy little bastard…

"I think you need to be locked away for a long, long time, but as you haven't technically done anything to warrant that, I think a little rehabilitation would suffice."

"And what do you propose I do, Officer Kirkland?"

There was something in the way he said "Officer Kirkland" that sent chills down his spine. Chills he didn't want, damn it!

"See a medical professional. A psychiatrist. A 'shrink', you bloody bastard." He emphasized the last part since Alfred didn't seem to understand otherwise. "And I better not have to bring you in again!"

"Wouldn't think of it, Officer Kirkland!"

The banter was all in his head, he reminded himself as he roughly removed the American.

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**4. Bananaphone - Raffi**

America did _not _just shove a banana in his hand and then run to the opposite side of the room and hold his own banana to his ear. He did not. He also did not motion for England to do the same.

And there was no way in the world that England followed suit. Really.

"The reception on this thing's not the best, so you'll have to speak up!" He spoke into the banana with a loud voice.

"What the hell are you doing, you git?!" England immediately snatched the banana away from his ear and blushed bright red in embarrassment that he had actually played along with America's antics.

"You're no fun! Fine, I'll just call China then! Hello, operator? Connect me to Beijing, please!"

He hoped that the banana he threw across the room hurt as it hit America square in the head. How was that for a connection?

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**5. All You Need Is Love - The Beatles**

"There's nothing in the world I can't do as long as you're with me."

"Oh yes, you're ruddy invincible. Come now, America," he scoffed and expected to find America smirking at him and declaring "gotcha!" with an obnoxious tone. Instead he was shocked to see a completely serious expression on his face.

"The same is true for you, too. I know it."

England wished he could will away the flush on his cheeks and the stammer in his voice as he replied. "You think so? And how do you think that's possible?"

"It's easy." He pulled England close and brushed his lips against his ear, England shivering at the contact.

"All you need is love…" He whispered.

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**6. Stop - Matchbox Twenty**

He was growing tired of this game. Of England, drunk and demanding, showing up on his doorstep and greeting him with a searing kiss and no words. Taking what America would offer gladly and giving nothing in return when he awoke in the morning to find them naked and entangled.

America didn't want to ask anyone else if they knew what England's feelings truly were, afraid of what the answer may be. Afraid that his hopes that England reciprocated his love would be dashed and those nights would be even more empty than they already were. Everyone knew how he felt, he didn't want to see pity in their eyes.

Why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he just push away and demand a real answer?

Ah, he thought, this is why. As hands roughly pushed him down into the bed, lips and teeth and tongue were at his neck, nipping and sucking, and hips drove into his. Then there was that hoarse voice at his throat, needy and thick.

"God, I want you so badly."

For all he'd grown up, it seemed he still had to grow stronger in some areas. America couldn't bring himself to care as he arched up with equal need.

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**7. Fairyland - Ayumi Hamasaki**

America remembered days from long ago, when his land stretched out seemingly endless before him. Not marred by highways or buildings or thick polluted clouds. Just a world of endless possibilities he couldn't wait to explore.

He remembered when England would arrive on that shore and America would run to greet him, even as he grew big enough to knock England to the ground as he threw himself into those warm, awaiting arms that opened just for him. When they hadn't cared that the waves lapped at their heads, and that their countrymen would shake their heads at their antics, and their delighted laughter rung loud against the sky.

Sometimes he wished he hadn't grown up, and he could return to that time, with England's hand in his as they explored his new world together.

But he wouldn't allow himself to regret a thing, merely hold onto what he had and grasp for what was waiting for him in the future.

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**8. Walking On Sunshine - Katrina & The Waves**

The mailman must have been terrified to deliver mail to America's house, with the way America had spent the last week camped out by his mailbox and practically pouncing on the poor postal worker when he retrieved the mail addressed to Alfred F. Jones. Each time he would tear through the letters and glare accusingly at the mailman when he didn't find what he wanted.

"Why can't you bring anything good?!"

So America couldn't really blame the mailman for tossing the mail at him that day before tripping over himself to run away.

But that day finally brought what he was waiting for. Leave it to England to insist on snail mail correspondence instead of email. He probably enjoyed torturing America with the anticipation.

He tore open the letter to find the Englishman's stuffy stationary and neat lettering.

_Very well. I'll be there. You bloody git, of course I feel the same._

_Sincerely,_

_England_

Okay, so it wasn't nearly on par with the awesome love confession and invitation he had sent to England, but it was the England equivalent thereof, he knew. He whooped and jumped into the air, throwing up his fist as he did so, and practically skipped back to his door to prepare everything for England's arrival.

He'd be high on life for days because of this, and damn if it didn't feel good.

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**9. I Wish It Would Rain - The Temptations**

England cared for both of them deeply, so he couldn't really be angry with either of them for finding happiness with each other. Yes, it was true he wished he could be the one on the receiving end of America's adoring smile, and not Japan, but what could he do but give his blessing?

That didn't mean he'd accept their invitations to join them for dinner or outings or the like. No, he'd stay locked up in his room, in splendid isolation, wishing for once that the typical English rain would fall instead of the brilliant sunshine (like America's smile) that had graced the country in the days after he'd learned of America and Japan's relationship.

If it would rain, he could go outside, and none would be the wiser that he had been crying. He could easily blame it on the rain, just like he had that fateful day so many years ago.

For now all he could do was watch the world from his window and will the rain to fall.

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**10. Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton**

"Does this look all right?" America straightened the tie that completed the ensemble that was his tuxedo, and gave England a helpless look.

Oh, you're beyond all right, England thought, but merely nodded in approval. "You finally look presentable, yes."

America scowled, but didn't respond as he tried one last time in vain to get Nantucket to stay down, only for it to spring right back into place.

At the ball, England noted with smug satisfaction that many heads turned to eye America appreciatively. He cleans up very nicely, doesn't he? But he's going home with _me_, England's expression said to each of the curious onlookers. America, for his part, kept shifting uncomfortably, and seemed to misinterpret the appreciative looks for something else.

"Is this really all right?" He asked England nervously, who smiled warmly in return.

"It's fine. Shall we dance?"

He had a few too many drinks, not enough to get him completely pissed and incoherent, but enough that America had to help him home. England wouldn't let him go, however, and so they tumbled into bed together, arms and legs entangled.

"Mm, America you're simply wonderful," he murmured as he pulled the American in for a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Untitled (Ten Songs Meme)  
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**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

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**1. Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi**

The train arrived late, he could tell from checking the gold pocket watch he'd swiped from the conductor when the man had been too busy fretting about the wanted criminal rumored to be in those parts to notice he'd been robbed. He shoved the watch back into his pocket, folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the cloudless blue sky as the passengers shuffled worriedly off the train.

"I hear he steals women away in the night and they're never seen again!"

"I hear he's the culprit behind all those train robbings!"

"I hear he murdered a whole schoolroom of children and their teacher without warning!"

In his defense, he just had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It sure was tough trying to save the day when people thought you were the one responsible! Ah well, fame was fame no matter how you looked at it. He smirked to himself and jumped off the train. He dusted off his pants and lifted the brim of his hat, the light of the sun glinting off his spectacles as he did so.

Boy, it was good to be home.

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"He's here! He's really here! What do we do, sheriff?"

Arthur near choked on his bottle of whiskey as his deputy came flying in the door in a panic. "Calm down, damn it. Who's here?"

"Alfred Jones! _America_, sheriff!! Did you know he's from this town?!"

Arthur's jaw clenched at that name, a string of curses uttered under his breath as he took another swig from the bottle of whiskey and stood up. "Bloody hell, if only I didn't know. The bastard's back, is he? I'll get him this time for sure." To accentuate the point, he twirled his pistol and shot "America's" wanted poster clean between the eyes, before replacing it in its holster.

"Er, sheriff sir, about that…"

"Out with it, man! I don't have all day!"

"He's calling you out, sir."

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Ah yes, it sure was good to be home. With the way everyone ran in terror at his appearance, leaving only a dusty street, some horses and the breeze to keep him company. Many curious, yet fearful eyes watched him from doors and windows, Alfred unable to resist winking at some pretty things standing in the entryway to the saloon, who tittered and disappeared into the darkness of the building.

But he knew the street wouldn't be empty for long. That man never could turn down his challenges, after all. Not when they were kids and not now.

"Jones." Right on schedule.

"Howdy, Iggy! Been awhile, ain't it?"

"Call me that again, and I'll-- No, I'm taking you out here and now, like I should have done five years ago!" He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Alfred, deadly intent in his eyes.

Alfred held up his hands, an innocently shocked look spreading across his face. "Shoot an unarmed man, would ya? Whatever happened to honor, Iggy?"

Arthur hesitated, and it proved to be his downfall. The next moment, Alfred was rushing him and just as he pulled the trigger to shoot the man, Alfred had grasped his wrist, forcing the gun out of his hand. Alfred brushed his lips across Arthur's ear, eliciting a shudder as he whispered.

"Bang."

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**2. That Don't Impress Me Much - Shania Twain**

"I don't get why you don't find me utterly awesome and irresistible, England," America remarked after yet another unproductive meeting of the world. America's awesome attempts to grope England had gone awry due to the island nation's insistence on being stubborn and in denial.

"Oh yes, I can't imagine why not," England sarcastically replied and tried to brush off America in the stairwell. To no avail, as the younger nation was hot on his trail.

"I put the first man on the moon, you know!" America stated proudly as he slid down the railing to pass England.

England scoffed and fancied the notion of pushing America off. "That wasn't you, it was your people at NASA who did that."

"Same difference, they're part of me, after all!" America jumped off the railing and waited for England at the bottom of the stairs, said nation pushing him out of the way as he stomped through the door to the lobby. "How about my drop dead sexy good looks?"

"Oh please. Just because you're good looking doesn't mean you're 'awesome' as you put it." But then he froze as he realized just what he'd said.

America grinned so wide it was amazing his face didn't crack. "So you _do_ think I'm good looking!"

"I didn't- That's not- Sod off!" England sputtered and walked off with his head held high despite his bright red face.

"So those don't impress you…how about this?"

England didn't have the chance to respond before America was grabbing onto him, dipping him and then kissing him deeply. England flailed for a split second before he was melting into the kiss and clutching at America's jacket. When America finally pulled him upright and stopped kissing him, England panted slightly and stared bewilderedly at the American.

"Pretty awesome, right?" America said with a cheeky grin.

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**3. Possession - Sarah McLachlan**

Too long. He'd waited too long.

America. Sweet, naïve America. America the beautiful. America the tease.

_Mine._

Two hundred years too long. He wouldn't wait any longer.

America's kiss was clumsy, but not clumsy enough. Who had he been kissing?

_Mine, mine._

His…_his_ kiss was rough and dominating. He'd wanted this for too long to allow for anything else.

He only pulled away when America started squirming and pushing at his shoulders. Vainly with the way he was pinned.

"_England_." He was gasping for air, tears prickling at his eyes.

"Hush," he murmured soothingly, lovingly. He removed those glasses, thumbing those blue, blue eyes closed with a gentle caress down his cheek.

A bite at his neck.

_Mine, mine, always mine._

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**4. Mamma Mia - ABBA**

England could have lived forever without ever seeing America again and been perfectly happy.

That's what he told himself, and he even started to believe it.

That is, until Japan, damn him, decided to attack America and drag the buffoon into the war.

"Don't worry, old farts! Your hero has arrived!"

He was cocky, insufferable, too gung-ho and reckless.

And England had never gotten over him.

One look and a hundred years of heartache resurfaced with a vengeance. He hated him for what he'd done, but loved him for what he'd become all the same.

There was just no forgetting or letting go of America, it seemed.

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**5. Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners**

"Remind me why we're here again."

"You need to loosen up every now and then!"

"By spending time around these…children?!"

"Hey, they're college age! And it's Halloween and you already won this year's contest, so why complain?"

"This is utterly ridiculous. Let's please get out of here."

"And out of our clothes?"

"No."

"But you're giving me really dirty thoughts dressed like that."

"No. Get your head out of the gutter, you bastard."

"You're the one in the dress."

"…Sod off."

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**6. If You Were Gay - Avenue Q**

It wasn't often that England could find himself finally enjoying a quiet afternoon with his embroidery, a good cup of tea, and his lovely fairy friends floating in the rare sunshine. And best of all, no America to ruin everything.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

"Iggyyyyy!"

Of course. Of course he'd show up. "What do you want, America?" England groaned and tried to quell his impending headache by rubbing his temples.

"I figured you were doing old man stuff and needed better entertainment and sure enough!" America grinned as he flopped into one of the chairs and started shoveling biscuits into his mouth.

"I _was_ enjoying a civilized afternoon until you decided to show up uninvited, thank you very much," England huffed and sipped delicately at his tea.

"Well, anyway, a funny thing happened on my way over here. There was this guy on the subway and we had a pretty awesome conversation and then he started getting _really_ friendly if you know what I mean. You think he thought I was gay?"

England promptly spit out the tea he'd been drinking and coughed hoarsely to clear his throat. "A-And why are you telling me this? What makes you think I care? Why would I care?! I don't care!!"

America shrugged and grinned, tilting his side to the side in an impossibly adorable manner. Damn him. "I'm just saying. I mean, not like it matters, right? France will sleep with anyone…maybe anything, and I know Spain can't be straight, and there's Finland and Sweden. It's all cool with me! If I was gay, I wouldn't mind saying it! But I'm not gay."

England's heart lurched. Of course America wasn't gay. There went his fantasies of frolicking with America in fields of wildflowers. Not that he'd had any of those. Usually it was about him and America entangled between sheets and-

"If you were gay, I'd still like you and be around to make your life more awesome!"

England was glad he didn't take try to take another sip of his tea, because he choked on air without it. "What are you talking about, you daft git?! Just because some bloke on the subway came onto you doesn't mean everyone is…that way!"

"No need to get so defensive, Iggy! It's all hypothetical anyway!"

England didn't feel so guilty throwing the teapot at America's head.

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**7. Softly, As I Leave You - Frank Sinatra**

Normally America liked to sleep in as late as his schedule would allow him to. Particularly on his visits to England, when he liked to stay in bed with his lover as long as possible. But on the last day of their visits, he'd always wake before dawn, long before England would rouse from unconsciousness, and leave quietly.

Because the first time he'd wound up staying longer than he should have. How could he say no to England's rare vulnerable look? How could he pull away from those lips seeking his, those arms encircling him? Rare were the times when they could truly be alone together, and they were selfish when they found them.

But though he loved England, he still had obligations to fulfill, that begged him to leave the warmth of England's embrace. He could only do it when England was sleeping and couldn't inadvertently beg him to stay. The only goodbye was a fond regard and a soft click of the door as it closed behind him.

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**8. Beautiful World - Hikaru Utada**

Times were troubling, and sometimes he didn't even want to pick up a newspaper, knowing that there would only be depressing news making headlines. No one was interested in the good things going on in the world, after all.

Sometimes, though, he'd read it just to see if it brought news from America.

_Are you doing well? It's been awhile since I've heard from you._

He could always call him, he often fancied the notion of doing so, but would always get cold feet. What could he say? A thousand things and nothing all at once. You're a fool. I want you here. You brought this on yourself. I miss you.

_Are you taking care of yourself? I wish I could be by your side._

He knew the weight being placed upon him. He saw it plain as day at every conference, every private meeting, and saw how America shouldered that weight, taking the abuse thrown at him with an unwavering smile.

America was as beautiful as ever, but perhaps he had forgotten just how beautiful he really was.

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**9. You Can't Always Get What You Want - The Rolling Stones**

England hated the times when all the nations got together in what was meant to be a friendly gathering. No business, no politics, just the pleasure of each others' company. That was the idea, anyway, but England always made it a point to seek out the bar and spend his evening getting completely sloshed and then ranting at anyone who would listen to him.

Especially that night, since America, damn him, was dressed in a well tailored suit and seemed to radiate even more sunshine than usual. He watched with burning jealousy as America swept the female nations around the dancer floor. Dances _he_ had taught America, damn it.

He tossed back another drink and wondered about the sad state of his life as France sidled up next to him and tried to grope his ass. England punched him in the face for his trouble. "What the hell do you want?"

France recovered quickly, too quickly and smiled coyly. "For you to stop making such a splendid soiree so depressing!"

"You can't always get what you want," England muttered in reply and stared at America once again.

France followed his gaze and then smirked at the island nation. "But you might get what you need if you try, no?"

England pursed his lips in disbelief and narrowed his eyes at France, who was groping at Spain sitting behind him. Then England smirked and sat up a little straighter. "I'll drink to that," he said confidently, downing the drink in one gulp and straightening his tie as he got up to cross the dance floor where America was waiting.

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**10. Truly Madly Deeply - Savage Garden**

Now that he had England, America never wanted to let him go. They had too many years apart to make up for. There were things they had to see together, do together, try together. Everything, everything. A whole world of possibilities that he wanted to share with England and only England forever. Shifts in power and constant changes in alliances be damned.

And America knew that England felt the same. He'd been hard pressed to get England to admit his feelings, but now that he had, England laughed more, smiled more. That wonderful, beautiful smile he used to see so often on England's face during his childhood. That smile that he realized was only for him, and had been from the start. Now, he could wrap England in all the love he wanted, and, of course, all the awesomeness that came with it.

When they met, he could run to him, sweep him in his arms and shout "I love you! I love you!" not caring who heard him. The best part was England's beaming face, perhaps the slightest sheen to his eyes, saying it back with as much delirious happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Untitled (Ten Songs Meme)  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

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**1. Don't Sleep in the Subway - Petula Clark**

Although he had planned to stay in a hotel, America found that he had rushed out of England's house without his wallet. He'd be damned if he went back to retrieve it, not wanting to face England anytime soon after their last argument, and he couldn't very well ask the president to wire him some money just because he'd had a fight with his boyfriend (who happened to be England).

He'd slept out in the open often enough, he could easily do it again if he really wanted to. It sounded like a much more desirable option than putting his tail between his legs and begging England for forgiveness. Nothing to it but to sleep at a bus stop and wait for the morning when he could demand to get his wallet back without the implications of needing somewhere to stay.

Of course, as soon as he settled into a somewhat comfortable and less awkward position on the bench, it started pouring rain. Damn that country and its sudden downpours. Even though it was a sheltered stop, it didn't stop the torrent of drops from splashing off the pavement and into his face. America grumbled and tucked into himself, as though that would stop him from getting wet.

He didn't see when a figure holding an umbrella stopped in front of him and rolled his eyes.

"Just what are you doing, America?"

America's eyes shot open and he sat up quickly, meeting England's exasperated gaze. "I'm waiting for a bus! What does it look like?"

England sighed and rolled his eyes once again. "There's no reason for you to be here. Come back."

"I don't need to, I'm going to stay in a hotel." America folded his arms and stuck his lips out in a pout.

"Without this?" England held out his wallet and snatched it out of his reach when he tried to grab it. "Come back, America. Don't be childish."

"You're the one who won't give me my wallet," America muttered and folded his arms again. He slowly lowered them when England pushed his shoulder back and leaned down to kiss him. He refused to return the gesture at first, but eventually gave up and pressed back.

"Stop being an idiot, America," England breathed as he pulled away. "It will be much warmer for both of us if you come back."

America stared at the hand England held out for him. He thought, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt to swallow his pride just the one time. He stood and took England's hand firmly in his.

"The hero has to save the day, after all!"

* * *

**2. Mrs. Robinson - Simon & Garfunkel**

Alfred wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow he wound up in Mr. Kirkland's house swirling a glass of whiskey instead of leaving like he had intended. Of course, he had been grateful for the excuse to leave the party where his parents and their friends cooed about how cute his ambitions were, and he could always find somewhere to hide after he dropped Mr. Kirkland off at his house.

But then the older man had insisted he come inside, because Mrs. Kirkland would be home very late and he didn't like being alone in the house. Why a man of his age would have problems with that was beyond Alfred, but he couldn't very well say no. His every attempt to leave had been rebuffed, and so found him in his current predicament. He thought of trying to leave again, when Mr. Kirkland spoke up.

"Tell me, Alfred, what do you think of me?"

"I…what?" Alfred replied dumbly, completely caught off guard by such a question.

"What do you think of me? You must have some sort of opinion," Mr. Kirkland smoothly repeated and stood up to turn on some music.

Alfred felt a lump forming in his throat. Just what was Mr. Kirkland up to? Asking weird questions like that, giving him alcohol and turning on music? He was staring at him a little funny, too. Almost as if he…oh.

"Oh. I see what's going on here, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred babbled nervously and started to stand up.

"And what is that, Alfred?" Mr. Kirkland said and took a sip of his drink.

Alfred laughed nervously and shook his head. "Mr. Kirkland, you're trying to seduce me."

Mr. Kirkland let out a rather unattractive snort and then laughed heartily. "Is _that_ what you think of me, Alfred?"

Alfred's eyes widened in horror and the blood drained from his face. "Oh shi- I mean, damn, I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland! That's…crap. That was a horrible thing to say!"

"Was it?"

Alfred froze, all of his thoughts coming to a complete stop. There was really no mistaking the look in Mr. Kirkland's eyes and it both terrified and thrilled him. He admitted that he liked both men and women, and it was one of his more embarrassing secrets that some of his earliest fantasies had involved Mr. Kirkland, but those were simply fantasies! This was real life!

"I… I…" He sputtered as Mr. Kirkland put his drink down, then stood and walked towards him.

"You _are_ a rather strapping lad, Alfred," Mr. Kirkland said lowly as he sidled up next to him.

Alfred was getting very uncomfortable very fast and so he tried one last ditch effort to escape. "This…this is wrong! Completely wrong! What about Mrs. Kirkland?"

Mr. Kirkland by then had his hands on his shoulders and he brushed his lips against his ear, Alfred trembling at the contact. "What Mrs. Kirkland doesn't know won't hurt her."

* * *

**3. The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson**

It was America's new goal in life to be the best damn boyfriend to England he could possibly be.

He didn't even need to do anything extravagant or over the top, it was the simple gestures that meant the most.

Be it catching England when he tripped on his feet when he was too deep in thought to pay attention to where he was going (and then make it look like it was entirely his fault and not England's for his benefit), putting his beloved jacket on England's shoulders when he shivered from the cold, massaging the tension of his shoulders or temples, or just sitting quietly while England patched up his shirts.

Because the benefits of his efforts would always come back tenfold in the way England's face would soften when he saw who he was waking up to in the morning or how it would feel to be held in those arms when, after making England exasperated and asking what he would want changed about him, England would whisper "I love you just the way you are."

* * *

**4. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring**

Alfred Jones had lost count of how many cigarettes he'd smoked that night. He had nothing better to do while he waited in that empty apartment for his hit to show himself, after all. He checked the picture of the man he was meant to assassinate once again. Some corrupt English bastard who was making life hell for the poor overtaxed citizens of that nowhere town. Once again he'd be the hero, saving the world from one more villain.

A chorus of voices brought him back to the present and he peered out the window towards the group of men who had just left the restaurant across the street. They talked amongst themselves and then parted company, one man staying behind.

Alfred held up the picture and compared it to the man on the street below. Oh yeah, those eyebrows were unmistakable. He grinned to himself, shoving the picture in his pocket and snubbing out his cigarette, and propped the sniper rifle up on the windowsill.

Eyebrows was checking his phone, which made it very easy for Alfred to line up a clean shot right between his eyes. All he had to do was pull the trigger and down Eyebrows would go. An easy, clean job. A boring job.

There was no denying he was a master of his craft. The jobs were always done cleanly, leaving no evidence behind. Most of the time he took pride in his work, but there was something about Eyebrows that made him want to make the man squirm before he died. Watch those eyebrows twist in fear of his inevitable demise.

Eyebrows had pocketed his phone by then and turned to leave. Alfred moved his trajectory towards the man's feet instead of near his head.

"Dance, fucker, dance," he murmured with a wolfish grin as he pulled the trigger.

Eyebrows stopped walking immediately and turned around. There wasn't any fear in his expression, though and Alfred wouldn't have that. He fired another shot next to the man's feet. This time Eyebrows jumped back, those enormous brows knotting in concern as he looked up wildly for the source of the shot. There it was, Alfred thought to himself with a smirk. Once again he lined up the scope right between the man's eyes. He started to pull the trigger and…

He froze as a bullet whizzed past him. His eyes widened as he saw some of his own hairs falling sedately to the floor. He hurriedly peered through the scope to see Eyebrows smirking devilishly up at him, his gun still smoking from the shot he'd just fired. Alfred was about to fire the damn rifle and end everything when he froze once again.

Eyebrows was still smirking, and Alfred could read the word "Jones" on his lips as he slipped his gun back into his front jacket pocket and blithely turned to leave once again.

How the fuck did Eyebrows know? Never mind that he was dressed in black clothing in a pitch black room, no one knew who he was.

He growled to himself and shrugged out of his dark coat. No one got the best of him. No one. He readied his pistol and tore through the door.

Heads were going to roll that night, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be his.

* * *

**5. Don't Let Me Down - The Beatles**

"This is it. I'm putting everything on the line with this," England said with determination in his voice and expression.

America blinked and tilted his head in clueless confusion. "What do you mean?"

"With you. I know there's no turning back, and I wouldn't want to even if there was. I just know…it's the first and last time."

America's expression sobered, understanding finally dawning on him. "I understand. What would you like me to do?"

England pulled America close, whispering as leaned in to kiss him, "don't let me down."

* * *

**6. Apologize - OneRepublic**

Being with America had started off just like he imagined. They'd had too many years of sexual tension between to not have a few great years of making up for lost time. England had been happy and madly in love. He wouldn't deny that he still was. Madly in love, that is.

But his happiness with the relationship had been steadily fading for some time. Arguments were a fundamental part of their relationship, but they started to get more and more hurtful and the resentful silences between them afterwards stretching longer and longer.

And then there was America, who was loving only when it benefited him more than both of them. When England wanted his love or comfort, he'd be left bereft. America would always apologize and beg to be taken back, and England would accept his apologies and offer his forgiveness.

It was time for that to end, though. America apparently hadn't learned yet that relationships were a two-way street, and it was high time that he did. So when he came asking for forgiveness after their last fall-out, England would have to refuse, even if it hurt him.

* * *

**7. Date With the Night - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

"Fuck. Oh _fuck_," America gasped as he was slammed against the wall, his pants long gone and his shirt open.

"That's the point," England said heatedly and smirked as he ground his hips against America's.

"Fucking…take off your pants, at least!"

"My _trousers_ are staying on until I decide to remove them. _I'm_ in charge now, America," England chided and bit America's neck.

America squirmed and panted, his senses overloading. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, suddenly England was pulling away.

"What are you-" His whining question was abruptly stopped as England smiled deviously at him and started to get on his knees. All America could do was throw his head back and fist his hands in England's hair.

* * *

**8. Human Nature - Michael Jackson**

America knew he'd never get over his love affair with New York City. Washington D.C. could be considered his brain, while New York was his heart. No matter where he went, he'd always be called back.

Sometimes he'd travel to Ellis Island like he used to do so often, and just remember.

He used to like picking out the family that looked the most frightened, the most unsure, and, because they were his citizens now, he'd slip into their native language and say simply "welcome home." And they'd finally smile, because they would just _know_.

There wasn't really a need to do such things anymore, but that didn't make the mix of citizens living in that heart of his, or anywhere in him, any less special.

He'd turn to the neighboring Liberty Island where his lovely Lady looked out over the harbor and make the same request he always did of her.

"Keep lighting their way home."

* * *

**9. Grace Kelly - Mika**

"I could be anything you want."

"I'm sure you could."

"I'm serious. I really could."

"I didn't say I doubted you."

"Then why don't you like me?!"

* * *

**10. When a Man Loves a Woman - Percy Sledge**

It's a bad relationship, they said.

He's just leading you on, they claimed.

England knew better, though. There was no lie in the way he'd kiss America, hungry and pleading, and get a response from the young nation. No, he knew they were just jealous, and would shun them for saying such ridiculous things.

"You mind if I take the bed by myself tonight?"

He'd miss the warmth, but if that's what America wanted, he'd do it.

"My country's in a jam financially, you think you can help me out?"

He'd make it work. Make America happy, that's all that mattered.

"I need to spend some time alone with Canada. Alone, all right?"

It hurt, but he knew there was nothing to fear. He was in love, finally had his love, and the others could say whatever they wanted, he knew what a good thing he had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Untitled (Ten Songs Meme)  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: This is the last of my old stuff that I haven't posted here yet. See where the idea for my delinquent!England AU originated!  
**

**

* * *

**

**1. Ohio - Neil Young**

"4 Kent State Students Killed By Troops" the headline declared, underneath a chilling photo of Mary Ann Vecchio screaming over the body of Jeffrey Miller. The paper rustled as America's hands trembled, his eyes scanning the article detailing the shootings of the day before. He quickly lowered it, pulling Texas off as he ran his hand over his face.

They were just children. The same children he'd spent the summer with, embracing their free love way of life, watching in awe as so many people gathered in one place to enjoy a weekend of music, peace and love. But even that had to end, too. He was a nation, not a human, and he still had obligations to his boss and there was Russia's ever present threat always looming over him. He could never really feel peace, not the way they did.

"Foolish children," he choked out as the page blurred beneath him, his eyes stinging from the burn of his unshed tears. Was that how the others saw him? Germany, England, France, all of them? Was he just a foolish child in their eyes, as well? Sticking his nose where it didn't belong on the pretense of being a hero, never thinking about the consequences of his actions? Vietnam was pissed, he knew, but he'd just wanted to save her from that commie bastard. He'd just wanted to help.

They were just exercising their rights, just standing against something they didn't believe in. But they were still foolish children. Foolish children who could do what he couldn't. There was no room for personal feelings in politics, he knew that too well.

* * *

**2. That's All - Genesis**

From an outside perspective, they must have looked very odd together.

They were always fighting, sometimes disrupting meetings with their antics, and they never seemed to agree on anything. Insults were used more than names, silent treatments a regular occurrence and stubborn refusals to be the first to apologize. All too often did one of them declare that they weren't putting up with it anymore and it was over.

And yet, it seemed to work for the two of them. Despite their near constant lovers' spats, they always wound up going back to each other. If one were to catch them in their rare moments of public affection, a shared warm glance here or there, they'd see that whatever they had went much deeper than what could be seen on the surface.

* * *

**3. Goodnight Moon - Shivaree**

Arthur would be back soon.

Alfred repeated that over and over in his head as a mantra in an attempt to calm his rattled nerves. Arthur had a key, he could get in, so all the doors were locked, all the windows shut tight. It had been fine, the lights were all on and he had loud music blaring, but then the power went out, flooding the house in complete darkness. In a fit of adrenaline, Alfred had stumbled up the stairs in the dark, ignoring the searing pain in his leg as he tripped halfway. He hadn't stopped running until he was safe in their bedroom, safe in the middle of their king-sized bed.

At first he'd been content like that, but he found that the light of the full moon outside the window cast eerie shadows that sent chills down his spine that even the pitch dark wouldn't. He ducked under the sheet, his cellphone in one hand, a flashlight in the other, both clutched tightly as if they'd save him from whatever was out there.

Because he _knew_ something was out there. Watching. Waiting. Without the loud music, he could hear every little sound. The moaning of the wind as it threatened to blow the house down, the clanking of the old pipes in the walls, crunching of leaves in the backyard.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked back and forth. Creaking on the floorboards in the hall, scratching on the door, old hinges squeaking as it slid open.

His eyes opened of their own accord, but he was paralyzed in fear otherwise. He had broken into a cold sweat, trembling violently but unable to move. He could _feel_ it moving behind him, the air so much colder than before, and then-

Arthur would be back soon.

* * *

**4. Killer Queen - Queen**

England could really play the part of a gentleman quite well when he really wanted to. America would watch in mute fascination how England would carry himself at such times, with dignity and an air of elegance that commanded respect. He spoke politely and always about the most respectable of topics. It was always when he had tea with the queen, or when he met with the bosses of other nations. Sometimes when he was amongst the common folk.

They'd never guess what he was _really _like. That he'd take you to bed and then take you to heights you didn't know were possible. Any sex America had had before England was completely vanilla, forgettable.

But England loved to play the part of a gentleman, even when America practically _carried_ him to his hotel room where they quickly shed clothes and kissed each other senseless.

"I won't do anything you don't want to," he said gently, raking his fingers over America's chest with a fond look.

And oh, when he put it like _that_- America groaned, grabbing a hold of England and flipping him onto his back before he leaned down and kissed the island nation hungrily. He could feel England smirking against his lips, pressing back with equal ardor and using those skillful fingers that so delicately clasped teacups or worked with a needle and thread to drag fire across America's skin wherever he touched.

"Shall I show you what 'awesome' can _really_ feel like?" England whispered thickly against his ear, dragging his lips across the shell and shifting his weight to put himself on top again.

America would have to be absolutely crazy to say no. No, he was quite happy to let England do the driving him out of his mind.

* * *

**5. Rockin' Robin - Michael Jackson**

England was loath to admit how enchanted he was with his young charge. How easily he submitted to that sweet child who loved him so unconditionally!

Even to a request to dance to the music of the birds singing above their heads. Such a thing would be completely unheard if it hadn't been America. If it hadn't been his most beloved colony who made that dreadful journey across the sea completely worth it, he would have made short work of whoever suggested such a ridiculous thing

"The birds are singing for you, Engwand!"

But coming from that boy, with his delighted laughter, he could almost believe such a thing was true as he joined America in a dance that possessed no real grace or rhythm, but was delightful in itself nevertheless.

* * *

**6. You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette**

"I really owe you for this, Kiku. Thanks again. If they don't send headhunters after you, I'll expect you in work next week."

Alfred started the email with his eternal gratitude for his friend, who was taking an enormous risk by doing him that favor. But Kiku needed out of that job, and what better way to go out than with a bang? A jaw dropping "article" on page one and a letter of resignation on the boss's desk. No more letting his successes be stolen from under his nose so the editor would look better, no, now he'd be working for Alfred's magazine where he'd get all the recognition he deserved. And as for Alfred, well, revenge was a dish best served cold.

"This is a letter addressed to one Mr. Arthur Kirkland."

He could just imagine Arthur sitting down to his breakfast, bland tea and a tasteless crumpet, opening the paper expecting to read the latest headlines and finding that waiting for him instead. Oh, if he could only be there to see his face!

"To start, let me express how happy I am for you and your new love! Now you've truly found someone who is your equal in both intelligence and maturity!"

It had been a bad breakup, there was no denying that. A bad end to a bad relationship. He wouldn't have minded so much that it came to an end if not for the fact that only days later Arthur had his tongue down Francis Bonnefoy's throat. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and kept typing furiously.

"But tell me, he's several years your senior, is he not? Does he have that 'youthful vitality' you're so fond of? Will he go all night with you and still leave you begging for more? Will he promise you forever with loving eyes?"

No, most likely not. Francis Bonnefoy was known for his relationship exploits, and Arthur was probably just another notch in his belt. All the better, Alfred thought sardonically.

"And I wonder, is it still my name on your lips when you're in the throes of passion? I can't imagine you've forgotten already."

_What it feels like to fuck me_, Alfred added as an afterthought. But despite his desire to make Arthur squirm, he wouldn't use such coarse language. He continued to type as if possessed, pouring out all the hurt and bitterness he felt towards his former boyfriend, imagining the steadily growing horror on the man's face as he read it. Would he drop his scalding tea on his lap? So that he wouldn't be able to get it up for quite some time? That was a comforting thought.

"I haven't removed the knife in my back yet, but I'm sure it will start to heal quite nicely now."

Alfred read over the draft and hit the send button, so Kiku could do the rest. It was just a shame he wouldn't get to see the recipient's reaction.

* * *

**7. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana**

Arthur was waiting in the designated spot, _had_ been waiting since first period ended. He flicked what was left of his cigarette off the roof and pulled out a fresh one, taking a long drag as he lit it up. Luckily those prissy student council members didn't like to come up there, so he could smoke in peace.

Finally the door to the roof was wrenched open, and Alfred came bursting through, clad in that ratty bomber jacket as always.

"Took you fucking long enough," Arthur snapped and glared at the other teen as he sat down.

"I gotta keep my grades up somehow!" Alfred replied in mock offense and leaned over to kiss Arthur just as he was taking another drag. The American got a mouthful of smoke for his trouble and quickly pulled away coughing. Arthur smirked as he blew out what was left.

"Fucking gross," Alfred muttered in disgust and let out one last barking cough.

"I don't see you complaining, yank," the English boy calmly replied as he stubbed out the rest of the cigarette and pushed Alfred's shoulders back to kiss him properly, the American moaning as he yielded to Arthur's tongue licking along his bottom lip. His tie was loose, his uniform shirt unbuttoned so Arthur could see his collarbone. Fucking tease, he knew they couldn't go further than snogging in broad daylight.

Nowadays he couldn't quite remember why or how this had started, he just remembered boredom and a lot of vandalism in the days before he'd been given a much more entertaining distraction in the form of violating the golden boy Alfred.

As he let his eyes drift open slightly, taking in Alfred's desperate expression as he was kissed so thoroughly, he thought maybe that day he didn't care that they couldn't do more than snog.

* * *

**8. Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend - Marilyn Monroe**

"Miss Monroe was quite the lovely woman, wasn't she?" England remarked as he sat watching her iconic performance of "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend" with America.

"Of course she was. I always looked like crap in comparison when she was hanging off my arm," America replied nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off the screen.

England blinked rapidly and turned to stare incredulously at America.

"Jealous?" A smug grin spread across the young nation's face, but he didn't meet England's gaze.

"What man _wouldn't _be jealous that you once had Marilyn Monroe on your arm?" England scoffed and went back to watching the movie.

America finally turned and smiled deviously at England. "You're not jealous that she had my attention like that?"

"Of…of course not!" England sputtered, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise. America just chuckled and went back to watching. They sat in silence, just watching the woman perform. She certainly had presence, even through a TV screen.

"She was always so sad," America finally spoke up as the song ended, and England whipped his head around in shock, noting the rueful expression on the American's face. "I always considered it a success if I could make her smile, _really_ smile, not that well practiced Hollywood one, even just once when I went to visit her."

"She had quite the whirlwind life, I suppose," England mused as his gaze drifted back to the television. "Movies, modeling, and she even had the favor of the president-"

Anything else he might have said was interrupted by the sound of aluminum being crushed and he jumped slightly. He looked over at America to see the nation's soda can smashed between his fingers, sticky liquid dripping onto the cushions. His eyes were sharp and his brow furrowed.

"He was a good man, and she was a good girl." His tone was harsh, saying without words that England was never to bring up such a thing ever again. Of course, England remembered, America had been terribly fond of his 35th president and never took kindly to any denigration of his name.

They fell quiet and watched the movie in an uncomfortable silence until America finally perked up again, a hesitant smile on his face.

"So is it true?"

"Is what true?" England replied, trying to mask his irritation so as not to offend America further.

"Do gentlemen really prefer blondes?"

* * *

**9. Movin' Right Along - Kermit & Fozzie**

"We're lost," England stated as they zoomed past yet another nondescript rock formation.

"We are not lost," America replied cheerfully and accelerated further. The roof was down on the convertible so the wind whipped through his hair. With that effect and with the sunglasses he was sporting, America could pass for one of his Hollywood movie stars, not that England would ever voice such thoughts.

Instead he sunk as low in the seat as the belt would allow him, the wind irritating his eyes. He was now regretting not taking America up on that offer for sunglasses and lighter shirts, because even with the wind, he still felt like he was going to die from the heat.

"We're lost," England repeated in irritation and glared pointedly at the nation in the driver's seat, who smiled winningly despite England's attempts to burn a hole into his head.

"Of course we're not lost. It's my country, remember? Just sit back and enjoy the scenery," America said serenely and looked over briefly to grin at England.

"…_what_ scenery? We're in a desert!" England gasped and mopped at his forehead. "It's so hot, I'm going to die!"

"Don't be so dramatic. I bet it's barely above 100 degrees out now!" America scoffed.

"Which is almost 38 Celsius! That's not a livable temperature!"

America let out a resigned sigh, removed his sunglasses and raised the roof back up. "Windows up, you baby. I'll put on the air conditioner."

Sweet air conditioning. One of man's greatest inventions. England leaned forward to allow the cold blast of air to cool his burning face. Why he'd agreed to drive cross country with America instead of using those wonderful planes America was so fond of was beyond him, but there they were. In a desert. Lost.

England leaned on the window and watched the barren scenery fly by. Occasionally he saw piles of rocks or a scraggly bush or two or…hadn't they driven past that plateau already?

"We're lost."

"We are _not_ lost."

* * *

**10. Look On the Bright Side of Life - Monty Python**

Getting captured was an embarrassment in itself. Getting captured by the Italies was the ultimate insult. Getting captured with America was just getting kicked when you were down.

England took deep breaths and didn't open his eyes, if he didn't lose his concentration, he might be able to use enough magic to call on the fairies to help him. Him, not America.

"Cheer up, England! It could be much worse!" America's infuriatingly cheerful voice called from the next cell over, of course ruining the trance he'd finally managed to put himself in.

"And just how is that possible, you wanker?" England hissed through clenched teeth and shot America a sharp look.

"It could be Russia! Or we could be in a pit of snakes!" America said brightly.

"Oh, I feel so much better now. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, America," England snapped sarcastically in reply.

"That's the spirit! Hey, let's sing a song to lift our spirits!" America declared and started drumming on the bars.

"I'll kill you," England growled, hoping that the racket wouldn't summon the Italies, who probably had Germany with them by now.

"Always look on the bright siiide of life!" America sang blithely on, completely oblivious to the atmosphere as usual.

"I'll destroy you!" England shouted, trying to reach through the bars to strangle the younger nation dancing stupidly.

"There you go, England! Let's dance!" America laughed and grabbed England's hands, swinging them side to side as he continued to sing, "always look on the bright side of life!"

Eventually England gave up trying to struggle against America's firm grasp and just hoped that Germany would kill him swiftly.

* * *

**A/N: It also occurred to me that my ten year anniversary on this website (yes, I'm old orz) is coming up at the end of the month. I was thinking of doing something for it like maybe take a few requests? I'll think of something. :)**


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